


I Have Loved You in the Summer

by Glass_Jacket



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: M/M, Oliver's POV, One Shot, oliver thinking about elio as the seasons change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 04:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14035956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Jacket/pseuds/Glass_Jacket
Summary: I both love and loathe the fall.





	I Have Loved You in the Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I needed to get out of my brain. I'll be thinking of the book, and the film, for a long time.

I both love and loathe the fall.

I can’t decide if it’s my favourite or not. There is a riotous swell of colour, the pale cheeks of summer suddenly flush with the waning heat and last rush of life. Your orgasm comes to mind again and again in the red of the turning maple leaf, the gold of the ash, the orange of oak, everything full and fleeting at the same time. Days grow short in a horrific mockery of those weeks we wasted, but given the chance to relive any part of it and I wouldn’t change it. Perhaps it was the waning of our time that made what we had left all the richer. It’s the same with the leaves, I suppose. We take the green for granted after a while and balk at the heat, but when we’re rushing headlong into the end of things, we grasp at what we can, hold our breath, watch the sky change, the world change, and in the process, we change. I will never be the same, you realize.

The hard, brittle truth of winter was never blessed with you beyond my memories, and these I dug into readily to stoke the emptiness that dwells in the long, dark months. I dared once to breathe your name - _Elio, Elio, Elio!_ \- into the bitter wind and it clung to the sharp, frosted edges so precariously that I never had the nerve to do it again. Only in my mind. Only when the fire had burned down to embers and remained rosy like the backside of a peach, bruised and juiced and loved by you in the summer, _our_ summer. You are the hopefulness that my world yearns to wake to, to be enveloped by, embraced, entranced.

You have melted me into the cool clutches of a wet spring doused in warm rain, and I smell you on the pavement. I smell you in the crocus that dares blossom beneath the broken snow, in the air that has too many promises, none of which it has the care to keep. I hear your name - my name, _our_ names - in the rain that promises May flowers, that come from across the oceans between us. It drives against the windows of my bedroom where I lay back in bed, and if I squint in the dreary light of a grey morning, I can fool myself into thinking I see you, a reed gently swaying in an icy berm, shoulder hitched with your smile, waning sunlight glinting off your curls, and your lips as tender as any new petal that comes with the season.

_(Incidentally, I skip summer, I keep these things to myself, too precious and scant to let them see the rough surface of a page. I keep you smooth and heated, pliant, ready. Why were you so ready for me, freely, asking too much of me? And me, so eager to give, knowing that whatever you took would be forever lost, but never mourned. I love you, Elio. I love you, Oliver.)_

And of course, summer ends. It ends with our legs entwined, like the bare limbs that sprawl and twist in the sky overhead. You are a vine around me, choking me into shape, curling about me, whispering how we work as if I don’t already know. _Symbiotic_. That is a good word for it - from the Greek _συμβίωσις_ , ‘living together’ where the relationship between two organisms can be mutualistic, commensalistic, or parasitic. I wonder if you do me more harm than good.

I both love and loathe the fall.


End file.
